Getting Out
by Justthisfangirl
Summary: A one-shot, drabble, which is really just the final scene of The Last Of The Timelords rewritten, from Martha's P.O.V. You really don't have to read this, I just needed to get the idea out of my head.


"I just can't."

The Doctor looked at me blankly. "Yeah."

"Spent all these years training to be a doctor. Now I've got people to look after. They saw half the planet slaughtered and they're devastated. I can't leave them."

The Doctor just looked at me, before smiling sadly. "Of course not. Thank you, Martha Jones, you saved the world."

"Yes, I did. I spent a lot of time with you thinking I was second best. But you know what? I am good. You gonna be all right?"

The Doctor looked at me, regarding me silently, before saying softly, "Always. Yeah."

"Right, then." I turned, and walked towards the TARDIS doors, my thoughts racing. _What am I doing?! It's the Doctor. I can't leave him. I can't leave you. I trust you with my life. Even though I shouldn't. And maybe that's the problem. You are deadly, and my life is so, so dangerous, but you are breathtaking. I take everything you throw at me, just waiting for that cheeky grin of yours to shine through. But I know that when you're with me, you're thinking of her. Rose Tyler. Your Rose, the blonde who stole your heart. Borg your hearts. I could have given you everything, and we could have done so, so much. I would have travelled with you forever. But one day you'll get me killed. I faced death hundreds of time, all because of you, whether it's on a moon in some farflung corner of the galaxy, or in a small side street on Earth, in that year that never was. Whatever you told me, I did it, without question. Because you were brilliant. Fantastic. Amazing. Deadly. Like a wild creature, who you should keep at a distance, but you are irresistibly drawn to. Dangerous, but beautiful. But it's not the danger that is the problem. Danger makes you feel alive, makes you treasure every second, and I love it. I love you. But you don't love me. You never could, not while you know that Rose is out there. And I can't ever be second best. Not to her. Not again. I was always second best, even growing up. Tish was always smarter than me, prettier than me, and everyone liked her best. Even Leo was more popular than me. And then when Mum and Dad split up, it really hit me hard. I threw myself into wanting to be a Doctor. I had almost finished my training, and then you came along with your stupid two heartbeats, and your stupid grin, and your stupid, stupid kiss. I left the hospital. I just left. Left it all behind to follow you. You._

"'Cause the thing is, it's like my friend Vicky, she lived with this bloke, student housing, there were five of them, all packed in, and this bloke was called Sean. And she loved him, she did. She completely adored him. Spent all day long talking about him." _All those words, and all I can come out with is that. Typical, Martha_.

"Is this going anywhere?" The Doctor looks so confused, and I had to stop myself laughing. _The genius, that brilliant man, and he has no idea._

"Yes! 'Cause he never looked at her twice. I mean, he liked her, but that was it. And she wasted years pining after him, years of her life, 'cause while he was around, she never looked at anyone else. And I told her, I always said to her, time and time again, I said: Get out. So this is me, getting out." I threw my phone at the Doctor, who caught it deftly, before turning and walking away, calling over my shoulder. "When that rings, you answer it, ok? I'll see you around, mister."

I left the TARDIS, shutting the door behind me. I rested my head against it. _I did it. I left him. I left all that behind, for what? What have I got now_? I turned back to the TARDIS, reaching out for the silver handle. My shaking hand hovered over it, _should I go back? Can I really leave him? Can he leave me?_ The wheezing groan of the TARDIS started up, answering my question. I dropped my hand again, and watched it fade out of view. Stuffing my hand back in my pocket, I turned away. I felt my fingers close around something in my pocket, and I pulled it out, and frowned at it. My key. I stared at it for a moment, before drawing back my arm, and throwing it as far down the road as I could. I almost ran after it, but I pushed my hand back in my pocket, and turned away. I started walking down the road, with a small smile forming, and a spring in my step.


End file.
